A Kind Word and a Gun
by Lady Silk
Summary: Time inevitably brings change, but for many years it's skipped over Makoto. Fed up with her day to day life, she decides maybe it's time to give Change a little push in the right direction.. Chaos and crack humor ensue, dragging Motoki along for the ride!
1. Of evil foliage and omelettes

Prologue: The Tree of Doom, Not to Be Confused With the Doom Tree

Some days, Makoto REALLY hated her life. Not often, mind you.. really, she was a pretty easy-going girl. There were just those select few times - such as when she was dangling from a tree by the back of her Senshi uniform - that she had the intense desire to go to sleep and wake up in someone else's life. Sighing dramatically, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited patiently for one of the other Senshi to notice exactly WHERE the latest in a long line of youma had flung her.

The irony that it was a _tree_ she was stuck in did NOT escape her.

Perhaps she could manipulate one of her attacks to hit the tree, she thought idly, green eyes following the fight below with detached interest. If she burned the damn thing to a crisp, it couldn't very well keep her stuck fifteen feet up in the air, now, could it? But then she might hit herself, and as much as she'd like to be free - and to feel firm ground under her feet again, because boy, did she loathe heights - she REALLY didn't want to have to explain away electrical burns. Not to mention the pain. Seriously.. ouch.

"SAILOR MOON! Quit tripping over your own hair and get OVER HERE!" Sailor Mars bellowed, pausing directly below Jupiter to scold their leader. It would have been funnier if the blonde Senshi hadn't literally been _tripping over her own bloody hair. _"Geez, do you have moon rocks rolling around in that head of yours? I swear, if you don't cut off those ridiculous pigtails, one of these days you are going to end up BALD!"

Sailor Moon gave a very unlady-like shriek of protest, and turned on her heel in mid-run to give the Senshi of fire a piece of her mind. Unfortunately, this left Sailor Venus to race directly at the youma alone.

The youma, which strongly resembled a carton of milk with the face of a woman (seriously, where did these things COME from?), took the opportunity to send the blonde flying - right into the tree that Jupiter still occupied.

"Owwww!" Venus whined, struggling to disentangle herself from the branches of the vile plant. "Geez.." She paused, noticing her companion. "Er.. Mako-chan, how long have you been there?"

Jupiter waved a hand dismissively. "A while." She wasn't exactly sure how long ago the youma had tossed her into the tree, and she didn't really care. God, how she missed Mercury right now. Where was sanity and the voice of reason when you really needed it? "Where's Ami, anyway? Leaving those two," she gestured vaguely at the bickering senshi below, "to fight together isn't exactly..."

"Intelligent in any way, shape or form? I know. She had some kind of exam tonight, I think. She wasn't answering her communicator." Venus grumbled, shoving away a branch that had been poking into her thigh in a most uncomfortable manner. "OI, you two! Think you could maybe give us a HAND?" She plucked a generous handful of leaves from the offending branch, and flung them ineffectively in Sailor Moon's general direction.

"You know, somehow, I just don't think that's going to get their attention." Jupiter commented off-handedly, now wondering if she could manage to strike the youma with an attack from this angle. Of course, she MIGHT hit Mars or Moon but... Actually, that idea was starting to sound VERY tempting.

"Shut up. It was totally worth a try." Venus struggled in place, working to break the dozens of various-sized branches that kept her suspended in place. Sometimes, she REALLY wished she'd listened to her mother and become a dentist. Particularly when she had leaves wedged in places she'd rather not think about, and... was that something CRAWLING UP HER LEG? "Ugh, this is hopeless. I hope there aren't any APHIDS on this thing..." She shuddered, and redoubled her efforts to free herself, doing her absolute best to pretend that the tickle on her leg was just an errant leaf and NOT, as it felt, a creepy crawly of dubious origin.

Jupiter decided she didn't have the heart to point out the enormous spider crawling steadily up her friend's skirt, instead choosing to focus on detangling the bow of her fuku from the foliage it was caught on. She wanted to keep her hearing til she was at least twenty, thank you very much, and having Venus shrieking directly into her ear would not much aid her in her quest for auditory maintenance.

"Okay, this is getting a bit ridiculous. Seriously, I've had enough of this psychotic, overgrown.. BUSH!" the ensnared Senshi growled, and redoubled her efforts to free herself from said plant. Unfortunately, as is usually the case with such things, the more she struggled, the more tangled she became.

Venus, meanwhile, had begun directing her various attacks at the youma - or attempting to. More than once, her Love Me chain had barely avoided taking out one of Sailor Moon's precious odango, and Jupiter wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't on purpose. Fortunately, this did have the effect of alerting the two bickering Senshi below to their friends' somewhat precarious position.

"Venus, Jupiter... ah.. how long have you been up there?" Sailor Moon queried, and was promptly forced to dodge another chain of glowing hearts as it was flung (completely by accident, of course) in her direction.

Surpressing the urge to smash her forehead repeatedly against the nearest wall (or tree), Jupiter flung an irritated look at her leader. "I have no idea. Now would you two idiots shut up long enough to GET US DOWN?!" The stress really was getting to her. Maybe she ought to take up yoga, like Ami had suggested.

The youma, having been completely forgotten up until this point, took the opportunity to send itself flying at Sailor Moon's back.

And without even looking up, the Odango Atama toasted it with a wave of her scepter. "Um.. well. Maybe if we get a really tall ladder.." she was muttering, using her free hand to scratch at an imaginary itch on her neck.

The Senshi stared, mouths open. The little ditz didn't even realize she'd done it!

Sailor Jupiter's eye twitched, and she sent out an electrical burst of energy that somehow managed to burn away most of the branches keeping her tethered to the overgrown weed of doom. This had the unfortunate effect of freeing her, but also dropping her directly onto Mars, who promptly shrieked in surprise and more-than-a-little discomfort.

"JUPITER! GET OFF!"

"Heyyy, you couldn't have gotten ME down, too?"

"Uh, Mako, Rei's looking a bit squished..."

"OBVIOUSLY, you meatball-brained..!"

"AHHHHHH!!" the frustrated Senshi screamed, leaping to her feet and growling at them in a move not unlike that of an angry bear about to go on the warpath. "Shut up! Enough! For the love of all that is holy, just KNOCK IT OFF!"

Obediently, her companions froze and stared at her with wide-eyed surprise. Makoto, her fuku fading back into her everyday clothing, just glared at them in what they could only define as a supremely _scary _manner. "Can't you two stop bickering long enough to fight ONE YOUMA?! Come on! None of us are fourteen anymore, or did you MISS that memo?" The accused Senshi stared at her some more, obviously unable to get past their shock at their friend's unusual behaviour. Makoto threw up her hands in disgust, and turned to storm off in the general direction of her apartment complex.

Silence reigned.

"Er.. guys.. About this tree..."

* * *

Motoki Furuhata had definitely seen better days. Of course, when you worked in an arcade constantly overflowing with shrieking, messy children and even messier, attached-at-the-hip-to-their-catch-of-the-week teenagers, those "better days" weren't exactly something to write home about to begin with. Today just happened to be one of the particularly awful days. So far, he'd managed to slip five times in various spills ranging from soda to ice cream to some unidentified substance he really didn't want to think about, break his favourite mug (he'd been holding it when he encountered the ice cream), get into a nasty argument with a co-worker about the pros and cons of peanut butter, of all things.. The list went on, but he forced himself not to think about it. It only made him want to climb a tree and hide, anyway. Fortunately, his shift was ending in an hour and his replacement, Akira, was headed for the back room. Thank God for small favours, at least.

Akira, a long haired nineteen year old with dull blue eyes and strange taste in clothing, paused next to the counter and looked hard at Motoki. Or, Motoki THOUGHT he was looking at him. The kid's hair was in the way, and he couldn't actually see much of his eyes. "Today," he announced seriously, "I have decided to become an omelette. I'll be in the kitchen if anyone needs me." And leaving a gaping Motoki frozen mid-counter wipe, he sauntered off toward his projected goal.

Mamoru, who had been watching the whole scene with an irritatingly calm expression, snickered and put his two cents worth in, ("Motoki.. you should seriously consider finding a new occupation."), and was promptly forced to dodge the pitcher of water that his bestfriend sent flying at his head. "Hey! That could have really hurt, you know!" he grumbled, peering up over the counter from his relatively safe position on the floor. "And you got water everywhere."

For some reason, Motoki couldn't bring himself to give a damn about the water he'd inevitably be forced to mop up, seeing as Akira was off trying to fit himself onto a plate with some hashbrowns and sausage gravy. "Shut up, Mamoru, or the blender's next." He sighed, glancing at the clock. Still a good fourty-five minutes to go, and he had a feeling things weren't going to get any better. Running a hand through his hair, he shuffled out from behind the counter and flopped himself down on the stool beside Mamoru, who had finally decided that he was safe from the impending threat of kitchenware and resumed nursing his cup of coffee. "You're right, though. I've been working here for years, and the only thing I've gotten out of this place is a firm resolve to never, EVER have children. Dirty little brats. If I have to clean sticky fingerprints off of one more video game... I'll... I don't know what I'll do, but it will be bad. Just you watch."

"You know, you could just quit. I'm sure there are plenty of other jobs you could be just as miserable at, while making far more money." Mamoru said, leaning against the counter and staring at his friend with the practiced air of one well accustomed to dealing with dramatic whining. Not that he thought Motoki didn't have reason to complain, but any way you sliced it, it was still overly dramatic whining. "Besides, man. You have a college degree. One that you haven't actually bothered to USE, might I add."

"I know. It's just.. while I was with Reika, she kept insisting that I not do something better. Kept whining about how it would cut my time with her short, or something stupid like that." Motoki rolled his eyes. "Only, then she went and moved off to Africa to study. I just haven't thought much about it until recently." he admitted, picking at an imaginary spot on his apron. He needn't have made one up, though, considering how many _real_ stains marred the abused garment. "To be honest, I think I only started to get uncomfortable here when I noticed all of the.. _couples_. It's damn annoying, all these teenagers hanging around, sucking face all day long."

Oh boy, thought Mamoru. Here we go. "You're lonely. It's understandable; you were dating Reika for a long time and now you're suddenly single." he said, trying his best to sound sympathetic and giving his friend a reassuring pat on the back. "You should get out more. Maybe try dating again." He paused, looking thoughtful. "What about one of the girls? I know Minako had a huge crush on you a while back. Maybe she's still interested." And heaven help the poor guy if Usagi's bow-wearing twin got her hooks into him, he added privately.

Motoki laughed weakly. "No thanks, dude. I'll uh.. pass on that one."

"I just thought you'd get a kick out of the suggestion," Mamoru said dryly, an evil grin twisting his handsome features. And if anyone knew how to do an evil grin, it was Mamoru. How many times had the man been brainwashed, anyway?

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Oh, you just tickle me pink, honey bunch." he muttered, glancing forlornly up at the clock (thirty minutes left!). "But next time, I think I'll ask Akira for suggestions. He's bound to be more helpful than you, and he's so dense he makes my head ache every time I lay eyes on him."

"Drink soy sauce and DIE!" came the well-timed cry from the general direction of the kitchen, quickly followed by a series of crashes and the exclaimation of, "I have a spork and I'm not afraid to use it!"

"Just more proof that growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional." Mamoru sighed, shaking his head. "Seriously. Just quit. You still have open job offers from a few places, don't you?"

"I think you may be right, my friend." Motoki finally agreed, sliding off of his stool and reaching around himself to untie his apron strings. "I'm going to go get that idiot out of the kitchen before he breaks everything again. Can I use your 'net later, to look up a few places? My internet connection is emo. Er.. I mean evil."

"That's the spirit. Just head over whenever you need to. If I'm not there, you know where the spare key is." Mamoru drained the last of his coffee, and set his mug down. "It's about time you stopped all of this nonsense." he said, gesturing at the chaotic arcade.

Motoki stuck his tongue out at him, strangely annoyed by the stab at his soon-to-be-ex workplace. "You know, a little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men. Or so the saying goes."

"Yes, but a lot of nonsense all the time is a sign of the insane," Mamoru countered, raising an eyebrow.

"...But still relished by the wisest men." Motoki sulked. "Now.. hand me my spine. I need to go have a word with the boss."

* * *

AN: To be honest, I started this quite a while ago and I'm just now finding myself interested enough to try to continue it. I thought I'd try posting it, to see what the general fanfic-reading public thinks, so.. here it is, the prologue, of sorts. Any and all feedback would be appreciated, though if you don't mind.. keep your flames in the fireplace and out of my reviews page. Thanks!

Lady Silk


	2. The universe, and also cookies

Chapter One: The Universe Strikes Back

Makoto stormed into the Crown Arcade, full of righteous indignation and a slowly simmering fury that would have scared the pants off of Beryl herself. Assuming that Beryl had worn pants, which she hadn't, and assuming that the furious Senshi of Jupiter hadn't promptly slipped in a large puddle of water and smashed her head against the pitcher lying next to it, thus rendering any scare-factor that she had going completely null and void. All of this ended with Makoto flat on her back and soaking wet, legs stuck up in the air in a very awkward position.

"Son of a..!"

Motoki, mop in hand, stared at the teenager. Well, at least there was no real need to mop anymore. Makoto's thick, green sweater had more or less managed to soak up the entire puddle. "Ah.. Makoto.. you okay?" he asked nervously. He had seen the look on her face before she slipped, and he was NOT going ANYWHERE near her until she proved that she wasn't going to start swinging. Or throwing things. Or screaming, because really, he rather enjoyed being able to hear properly.

The girl ignored him, levering herself into a sitting position and gingerly rubbing the bump forming on the back of her head. "Damn, that REALLY hurt. Who the hell left that there, anyway?" she muttered, her anger returning in full force. "If I find out, I'm gonna CLOBBER the jerk!"

Mamoru glanced at Makoto, sipping his coffee almost idly. He raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "Yes, Motoki, who could have left that there?"

The blonde was SO not admitting to that. Not a chance. No way.

"I, uh, that is.. someone must have knocked it over.." he stammered, sweating slightly as Makoto's anger-clouded gaze found him.

Akira chose that moment to poke his head (which was covered in egg yolk) out of the kitchen. "Hey, Motoki. Do we have any frying pans bigger than this?" he queried, waving a pan with a dent in it that looked strangely like the bottom of a size 12 shoe.

"Of course!" Motoki cried, relieved. "I'll uh, just.. go get it for you!" He pivoted to make good his escape, only to trip and re-acquaint himself with the floor (how many times could you fall in one day, anyway?) when Makoto lashed out and grabbed hold of his pant leg.

He'd really neglected his cleaning lately, he noted absently; his face had narrowly missed smashing into a huge wad of purple bubblegum glued to the scuffed tile.

Akira sighed dramatically. "Well, if you were busy, you could have just said so," he said, shoving a lock of egg-coated brown hair out of his eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me, I was about to whisk myself." Turning, he shuffled back into the kitchen, leaving a trail of broken eggshells in his wake.

"Motoki! I am going to.. to.. I DON'T KNOW what I'm going to do, but it is going to be _painful_ and you will _not enjoy it_." Makoto growled, pushing herself to her feet and scowling down at the soon-to-be ex-arcade worker.

Honestly. Booby-trapping the place like that! He probably did it just to piss her off.

Motoki, meanwhile, was playing dead. She might kick him a few times, but surely it was better than the alternative? She'd probably wander off to find fresher meat eventually...

"Motoki, I can see you breathing. You aren't fooling anyone, you coward!" the brunette said, tapping her foot impatiently.

The boy was beginning to turn blue. Was he _holding his breath? _

She crouched down near his head, leaning in close so that he couldn't possibly pretend he hadn't heard her, and said, "I'm going to bite your nose. And don't think I won't. See these teeth? They are sharp and are oh-so-ready to inflict pain on your oh-so-annoying person. _Motoki_!" Huffing angrily, she turned to Mamoru, hands jammed onto her hips in the universal sign of feminine displeasure. "Mamoru, where is his car? You know, the shiny blue one. I'm going to key it."

Mamoru, looking for all the world as though he were enjoying this immensely (and he was), opened his mouth to reply and was cut off by a loud, decidedly feminine shriek from his best friend. He sighed, clearly disappointed. "Ah, looks like Sleeping Beauty is awake after all, Mako. Pity."

"I swear by every god I have ever heard of, ever, that I will hunt you down and lop off that ridiculous ponytail if you get within a hundred meters of my car!" Motoki cried, scrambling to his feet and placing himself between the door and the smug looking teenager.

One hand flew up to her hair, her mouth falling open in horror. "Ridiculous? My ponytail is NOT ridiculous!" she protested, tugging self-consciously on the tie holding it high on her head. "What's wrong with my ponytail?"

She was distracted! Success! Now to... actually, he had no idea what to do now. Further distract her! Yes! She couldn't disfigure his car if she was thinking about something else.

"Nothing, nothing. Look, I'm sorry. I was about to clean up the mess when you walked in and, er... did it for me." he said, casting a nervous glance out the window. His car was parked at least a block away, but that didn't mean she wouldn't sniff it out. "I think I might have a spare shirt in the back.. so.. Why don't we at least get you dry?"

Makoto frowned at him, her anger fading into vague annoyance. "Well.. fine. I guess." she muttered, plucking at the damp fabric clinging to her equally damp skin. "I should have been watching where I was going. Sorry for blaming you, Motoki. It's been one of those days." She trudged wearily toward the employee break room, not bothering to wait for him. She was still a bit angry, after all.

"Ugh. Women." Motoki grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Mamoru, if I ever start to feel lonely again, you have my permission to kill me."

It had been too long since Reika, he decided. He'd forgotten how psychotic she got when she was angry. Did all women do this? If so, he seriously needed to contemplate staying single... or turning gay. Men were never this hard to deal with.

"No problem, pal. I'll start carrying a gun, just for you." Mamoru agreed readily, snickering as he finished his coffee. "I've gotta dash. Have fun in your personal hell!"

And so saying, the other man slid off of his stool and sauntered out of the arcade, leaving his best friend to his fate.

~~~}{~~~

"I am not wearing this. NO ONE should wear this. Ever. Why do you even have this thing? It looks like Jamaica vomited all over India and some crazy American hippie decided to sew it together."

Motoki scratched the back of his head, smiling awkwardly. "I know. Sorry. It was.. uh. A gift. From Akira." he admitted, embarrassed. "Apparently it was a holiday... Something to do with a pasta god. I really have no idea what the hell he was talking about, but he insisted I keep it. I think it's called a dashiki?"

Makoto stared down at herself in disgust. "I look like a fruit roll-up."

"Well, if you hate it that much, Mako-chan, you don't _have_ to wear it." Motoki said, shrugging. "I have a spare apron, after all. Just don't blame me if you're accosted in the park on the way home."

Actually, the apron was an interesting idea. Makoto had the figure and stature of a model, and she wasn't exactly hard on the eyes...

The brunette stared at him as his eyes glazed over, and seriously reconsidered her resolution not to beat him to a pulp. Still, she supposed it was kind of flattering. If she were a year or two younger, she'd probably be starry-eyed and comparing him to her sempai by now. Hmm, come to think of it, there was a slight resemblance... No! Bad! She was _over this._

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll just.. run all the way home, or something. Maybe no one will recognize me if I pass them quickly enough..." she said, smiling weakly.

Motoki blinked, coming out of his daydream abruptly. "Er.. yeah. Sure. Or I could drive you home. As long as you don't go ape-shit and decide the car needs to be keyed again." he said, raising an eyebrow. "It cuts down on over-all embarrassment by at least half to have tinted windows between yourself and the general populace."

Makoto coughed softly. "Ah, yeah.. there's always that. If you don't mind, that'd be great. Er.. you're not supposed to be working, are you..?"

What was she saying? A hot guy was offering her a ride home, and she was hesitating? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Never mind. Let's just go." she amended quickly, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the lounge.

Confused, he allowed himself to be led (as fast as humanly possible) out of the arcade by the suddenly enthusiastic Makoto. "Well... okay?"

He'd never understand women.

As they walked away, he swore he could hear Akira yelling "May you be touched by His Noodly Appendage!" after them.

~~~}{~~~

One short, awkward drive later, the unfortunate duo pulled up in front of Makoto's apartment building, and Motoki threw the car into park. He really had no idea what to say, after all that had transpired in the last forty-five minutes. Thanks for not keying my car? Here's your stop, get your shit and get out? Probably not the best plan...

Makoto, meanwhile, was having her own internal debate. That is, whether or not to try and invite him in. The debate didn't last very long, as it was really less of a 'debate' and more of an 'evil plot'.

"Well... thanks for the ride, Motoki-kun. Er... especially after I threatened your car. And your personal well-being." she said slowly, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "You really didn't need to go out of your way like that. I hope I didn't get you in trouble with your boss."

He laughed nervously. "Ah.. no. I'd just quit, actually. I was about to get my stuff together and leave." Hopefully forever, he added mentally. He really had no desire to ever set foot in that place again. "I decided I needed a change, and, well.. Seemed like a good place to start. New job, new outlook on life."

Surprised, she turned to face him, momentarily distracted from her quest to turn the Hottie-in-the-car into the Hottie-in-her-apartment. "What? Really? I thought you liked working at the arcade..." Makoto trailed off suddenly, inspiration hitting her. Yes! The caring friend approach was BOUND to work. "Look, you know what.. Why don't you come in for a while? I'll make some tea, and you can tell me all about it." she said, smiling sympathetically. "I'd like to hear about this new life you're after, but I HAVE to get out of this.. thing." She tugged on the dashiki for emphasis.

Motoki stared at her for a moment, caught off guard by the slightly predatory gleam in the brunette's eyes. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, Mako-chan. I'm sure you've got things you'd rather be doing today than spending time listening to me complain about my life issues." he said carefully.

Why did he feel like he'd be stepping into the spider's proverbial parlor if he accepted her invitation? Not that he'd necessarily object to spending time with the younger woman, but he felt distinctly _hunted._

"Nonsense!" Makoto proclaimed, flashing him her most charming grin. "I made cookies last night," she coaxed, "chocolate chip with walnuts. There's no way I'm going to be able to eat all of those by myself. I'd love to have some company."

"I.. well, if you're sure, I guess I could..." he said uncertainly, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

"Perfect!" Makoto beamed, and flung the car door open (Motoki winced). "Come on, your car should be fine parked here. At least for a while."

Unbuckling his seat belt and removing the keys from the ignition, Motoki slowly opened the door and slid out of the car. He had a feeling he was going to regret this, for some reason.. But, well. Hadn't he just quit his job because he was bored with the way his life had been going? Might as well take a few chances, or he'd NEVER turn things around!

Squaring his shoulders, he slammed the car door shut and walked around it to follow the (was she skipping?) smiling girl into her apartment building. "So.. this place is pretty nice. You live alone, don't you?" he said, shoving one hand into his pocket with an air of forced casualness.

Makoto shot him a surprised glance. "Yes. How did you know?" she asked, turning a corner and stopping in front of her door. "I didn't think I'd exactly _broadcast _that to the world, or anything."

"Heh... well. You girls have been coming around the arcade for years now. I think I just picked up on it, at some point or another." he said, shrugging.

Working at the Crown, he thought privately, was very much akin to working as a bartender, or maybe even a hairdresser. You eventually heard _all _the gossip, whether or not you were actually trying to. He knew things about some people that he'd rather not EVER think about again.

"I suppose that's true. The girls and I are there at least twice a week these days."

Makoto twisted her key in the lock, and pushed the door open. It was a good thing she kept everything so clean! Sure, the other Senshi teased her about her borderline OCD habits, but at least she didn't ever have to worry about bringing company over. In particular.. male company. She had witnessed Usagi's squealing panic attacks whenever Mamoru was supposed to come over, and she wanted no part of it.

Smiling to herself, Makoto stepped to the side and made a sweeping gesture toward the interior of her apartment. "Please, make yourself at home! I'll grab those cookies I promised and.. Ah.. Would you like anything to drink? Milk? Tea? Milk tea?" she asked, slipping out of her shoes and padding off toward the kitchen. "I can make coffee, if you'd prefer."

Motoki chuckled at her enthusiasm, and (only a _little_ nervously, thank you very much) stepped through the door. "If it's not too much trouble, tea would be fine." he said politely, green eyes sweeping over the cozy living room he'd entered. It was spotless, and extremely feminine looking... Over all, it was a very inviting space.

On the other hand, the sheer number of potted plants in the room was a little creepy. They were everywhere he looked; in the windows, hanging from the ceiling, sitting on top of crocheted doilies on matching end tables... The girl must have a serious thing for all things green!

"No no, no problem!" Makoto called cheerfully from what he could only assume was the kitchen. "It'll be ready in just a minute. Go ahead and have a seat anywhere!"

This last statement was punctuated by the sound of water running into a tea kettle and the clink of glasses being shuffled, so Motoki decided to take his cue and.. Well, make himself as comfortable as possible. Given the extremely awkward situation, that is. He eyed the multitude of plants dubiously, and finally settled on a spot right in the center of Makoto's squashy beige couch.

Why did it feel like the house plants were WATCHING him? And just what was taking Makoto so long, anyway! A glance at the clock told him it had been an entire _two minutes_ since she disappeared into the kitchen. How long could it take for water to boil?

Makoto, meanwhile, had left the kettle to heat on the stove and made a dash for her closet, determined to wear the first thing she laid hands on that wasn't baggy or full of holes. Thrusting one hand deep into the bowels of the closet, the other already busy tugging the borrowed dashiki over her head, she grabbed hold of something and yanked it out.

Pink, she thought incredulously, staring at the _thing _in her hand. Why did it have to be pink? Bad enough part of her fuku was freaking neon pink... Where had she even gotten this? She didn't remember buying any hot pink.. What WAS it, anyway? Oh, yes. That Christmas present from Minako, nearly two years ago. A tube dress. Ugh. No thanks.

Slipping the dashiki off entirely, she threw it and the scrap of material that had the audacity to call itself a dress into the corner. There had to be something else in there that would work. Anything else, really.

"This is why Minako and Rei are always trying to get me to buy new clothes," she muttered, scowling at her closet. "Black, green, black.. more green.. I bet this is what Mamoru's closet looks like..."

Giving up, she reached for the first green shirt that caught her eye and quickly pulled it on. She'd worry about her wardrobe later. For now, she had a completely hot, completely _single _guy waiting in her living room. This thought cheered her immensely, and she nearly skipped back into the kitchen. The last time she'd tried this with Motoki, he'd been very attached to Reika... and, well. She'd only been about fourteen years old. No wonder he hadn't been interested, really. Three years could make all the difference in her quest for True Love!

Back in the living room, Motoki was staring fixedly at the coffee table. If he didn't see them, the damn plants couldn't very well creep him out, could they? He ignored that little voice in the back of his head telling him that there was a hole in his logic. What did the voices know, anyway? Jerks.

"Sorry for the wait!" Makoto chirped from the doorway, shuffling into the room with a tray loaded down with tea and cookies.

"ARGH!" Motoki yelped, startled out of his intense examination of the furniture. Unfortunately, his sudden jerk of shock had sent him sprawling sideways off the couch, and he landed in dazed heap right in front of the surprised brunette.

Blinking, Makoto set the tray on the coffee table that her guest had found so fascinating and eyed him sceptically. "Motoki... I know I'm good looking and all, but you really don't have to throw yourself at my feet like this." she said, grinning saucily.

"Urph," he replied intelligently, the groan muffled by a mouthful of carpet.

"Er... are you all right? Do you need help getting up?" That position looked just a little painful... On the other hand, with his rear stuck up in the air like that, she had quite the view. _Five stars, Motoki, _she thought, smirking.

Motoki pried his face free from the floor, and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Well. That was..." he coughed slightly, "_extremely _embarrassing. I guess this is karma coming back to bite me for neglecting that giant water puddle in the arcade." He grinned sheepishly up at her, running a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. "I really am sorry about that, by the way! Don't er.. key my car."

Actually, until he'd brought it up, she'd completely forgotten the whole incident. Makoto's eye twitched. "Right. No keying. But if you wake up one day and it's got a bright green stripe painted skunk-style from trunk to hood, don't be too surprised." she said brightly, moving around the coffee table and plopping herself down on the floor next to it.

Ignoring his horrified look, she poured two cups of tea and gently pushed one in his direction. "Here we are! So, what were you saying about quitting your job?" she asked, smiling as she bit into a cookie.

Shaking his head to banish the image of his vandalized car from his head, he took a quick sip of his tea to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts. Mostly he just succeeded in burning his tongue. "Er.. well. I suppose I was just going crazy, being stuck in the same place for so long. Everything was just.. _annoying_ me." He smiled dryly. "Mamoru kindly reminded me that I did, in fact, graduate from university not so very long ago, and I could, at any time, quit my crappy job for a much better paying crappy job."

"I didn't realize you'd graduated.. I don't think you ever mentioned it." Makoto said thoughtfully, brushing crumbs off of her hands. "Mamoru's right, though. If you've got the degree, use it. What did you study at university?"

"Marketing, and photography," he admitted, flushing a little. "I think when I first started I had some strange desire to be able to not only think of catchy slogans, but take exactly the right photos to go with them." Motoki shrugged awkwardly, grabbing a cookie to give his hands something to do. "Weird, I know."

Makoto smiled sunnily at him. "Actually, I think that sounds really cool. I can't say I know anything much about marketing, but it seems like a fun idea. May be hard to break into the business, though. My dreams were never so interesting as that."

"You want to start a bakery-flower shop, don't you?" he asked, grinning. "Sounds like a perfectly good dream to me. What's keeping you? If I could eat your cooking every day, I'd be ten steps closer to being the happiest man alive." Of course, he currently lived mostly on boxed lunches from the local grocer, but she didn't need to know that part.

Makoto turned so red so quickly, it was a wonder she didn't faint. That had to be the sweetest thing any boy had _ever_ said to her... And was he maybe flirting, just a little? She hardly dared to hope.

"I..." she started to say.. and was promptly interrupted by an obnoxiously loud trill from her communicator. Oh, hell. "I.. that's.. Crap, hold that thought, Motoki!" she cried, leaping to her feet and racing down the hall into the bedroom. Tokyo had better be burning to the ground, or she was going to kill whoever was on the other end of this communication!

Yanking the offending object out of her pocket, she hit the flashing symbol of Mars and scowled as Rei appeared on the tiny screen. "_What_? I'm kind of busy here.." she growled impatiently.

Rei raised an eyebrow at her, obviously completely unimpressed. "Youma, about three blocks from the park. It's kind of wrecking a clothing store, so if you can take time out of your busy schedule..." she said, rolling her eyes.

Makoto groaned. It seemed so unfair that she had expended so much effort in caring and tending to the universe at large, only to find that the universe, really, didn't give a damn. "Oh for... Fine! I'll be there ASAP, keep your pants on." She stabbed the 'off' button without waiting for a reply, and high-tailed it back to the living room.

"Hey Motoki that was my.. uh, pager, I have to take care of something REAL quick but I'll be right back!" the flustered brunette cried over her shoulder, already on her way out the door.

Motoki could only stare as the door slammed shut behind her. What in the world had that been about? Well, she probably wouldn't be gone long.. and he did have an entire plate of cookies to keep him company. Shrugging, he snagged one off of the plate and had just bitten into it when he raised his eyes and caught sight of the previously forgotten house plants.

Oh hell.

~~~}{~~~

AN: ..Right, and here it is, three years later. I have no decent, valid excuse for not doing this sooner. Ahem. I will say, however, that this is the THIRD version of this chapter that I was forced to write, due to a series of computer crashes. Words cannot describe how angry I was about this. Anyway, I thank you all for your kind words, favorites, and various alerts! They really were very much appreciated. :)

~*Lady Silk*~


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